


New Year's Envy

by sweet_ladyy



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (only sorta tho), Alcohol, Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Hate Sex, Implied Sexual Content, New Year's Eve, New Year's Eve Party, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Reader Insert, Swearing, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22126501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_ladyy/pseuds/sweet_ladyy
Summary: Ever since you hooked up with Roger Taylor’s ex-girlfriend, you and Roger have been sworn enemies. Now, at the same annual New Year’s Eve party where it all went down last year, you and Roger meet again. Who would have thought you both secretly want to hook up with each other?
Relationships: Jill (Original Character)/You, Roger Taylor (Queen)/Reader, Roger Taylor (Queen)/You, Roger Taylor/Bi!Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Roger Taylor, Queen or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized.
> 
> Author’s Note: This is part one of the first installment of my 3K Reader’s Choice Smut Extravaganza! I asked you guys to vote on prompts for each Queen and BoRhap guy, and the prompt that won for Roger’s category was “Enemies to Lovers”—so here we are! As per usual, in standard Blake fashion, I ended up writing waaaay more for this story than I originally intended… So I’m turning it into a 3-part miniseries!
> 
> Thank you eternally to my beta readers (Tumblr URLS) @redspecialty, @just-my-sickly-pride, and @anotheronebitesthedeaks ♡ Thank you as well for all my friends in the Discord! I wouldn’t be able to do this without all y’all’s input and suggestions!

Originally posted on Tumblr at <https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/>

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/26febbc3c03977e941e1fa177b54f44f/90d2aff14d73d3ec-c5/s1280x1920/9b56a0fbcb2878d69071e45f42a0b83437532969.png)

_Oh, fuck no._

Roger Taylor watched you walk through the front door of Freddie’s house looking like a scantily-wrapped Christmas present you fully intended someone to unwrap tonight. All sequins and silver and scarlet-lipped smirks, you sauntered into the living room, your hooded eyes scanning the partygoers. Every gaze fell to you as you let the snow-dappled fur coat fall from your shoulders.

“What is it?” Freddie asked beside Roger, following his gaze. When he realized what the commotion was all about, he gasped. “Oh!!! Y/N is here!”

“You invited _her?”_ Roger grumbled, but Freddie paid him no heed, rushing to the living room to greet you. 

“The Queen herself has arrived!” he announced to the room with an extravagant, arm-sweeping gesture. The guests within earshot cheered. You gave a grand bow and kissed cheeks with Freddie before waving to your friends. 

Roger scowled. He couldn’t _believe_ you had the nerve to show up here. He downed another shot of peppermint schnapps. 

You were single-handedly the most infuriating woman Roger had ever met. You were arrogant and stubborn and sly as a fox, not to mention _insufferably_ unpredictable. You seemed nice enough…until you got through the ruse of your sugar-sweet voice and innocent doe eyes. You were a devil, and after spending the whole goddamn summer together on tour (and not on any volition of his own), Roger wanted nothing more than to never see your face again.

At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. Because, of course, that would mean thinking about _your face_ …and trying to ignore the way it stirred something within him. Trying to ignore the way his cock twitched to attention at the mere thought of you.

Freddie’s brash voice drew nearer, and Roger realized he was guiding you into the kitchen to prepare you a drink. That was Roger’s cue to scram. He wanted to get the hell out of your line of sight as quickly as possible before you noticed he was here. He shouldered his way past a group of guffawing partygoers and slipped into the parlor room.

Little did Roger know you were well-aware of his presence at this New Years party.

“You _must_ join us again on the next tour, you simply _must!”_ Freddie cawed to you as he perused the arrangement of various liqueurs on the counter. He began to pour more than a shot’s worth of vodka and triple sec in a shaker. “I don’t know what I’ll do without my most nonpareil wardrobe assistant.”

“You’ve seemed to have survived just fine without me since August,” you mused as Freddie began shaking your cocktail with vigor. 

“Yes, but we’ve spent every waking hour since the tour ended in the recording studio, so the only people I have to dress up for are the lads. They don’t seem to mind seeing me without a leotard on.” Freddie poured the drink into a sugar-rimmed martini glass and decorated it with a few cranberries and a rosemary garnish. “Here you are, my dear. A _Santa Clausmopolitan.”_

You tittered and sipped Freddie’s creation. “Speaking of _the lads,”_ you began. “How’ve they been?”

“Oh, you know. The ‘ushe. Brian’s been busy shooting down all our ideas and complaining about his _PhD_.” He spoke the acronym in a mock-posh accent. “John’s wife has been toting him around like a puppy, so we hardly see him outside of the studio. They’ve been going on about how they’re ‘trying for a baby.’”

“That’s wonderful of them.”

“Oh, it’s lovely. I’m happy for them. I just wonder if they realize that they’ve essentially been publicizing to the world that they’ve been engaging in frequent unprotected sex.”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“More power to them, I guess. Deaky’s happy and in love, and that’s all I care about. Anyway, the band’s been doing just peachy. And Roger’s been, well…”

You smirked at the mention of the drummer. Freddie raised an eyebrow knowingly. 

“Roger’s been what?”

“Let’s just say, he’s been glad to be rid of his summertime competition.”

You snorted. “Still the wannabe womanizer, then?”

“Wannabe no longer. You’d always been much _suaver_ than he, I’d say, but he’s been paving his own path. Brings a new pair of girls to the studio every week.”

You snubbed your nose a little at that. For some reason, the information irked you. “Well, then he must’ve taken some inspiration from the best,” you boasted to hide your annoyance.

Freddie rolled his eyes, but he was laughing. “This little rivalry of yours and Roger’s has gone on for far too long. Don’t you think it’s time to just fuck it out and call a truce?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Me, Roger? _Fuck it out?_ Not a chance.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. I’m not gonna ignore what you said about him that night after the Epsom gig.”

“What did I say?” you asked, bemused. 

“Ah, you don’t remember. You were rather pissed, if I remember correctly.”

_“What did I say?”_ you asked again, laughing. 

Freddie sneered. “You said you thought it was _cute_ how jealous of you Roger was, and that you’d gladly fuck him if he asked nicely.”

You tried to hide your surprise. While you barely remembered admitting that to Freddie, your words weren’t necessarily _untrue…_

In fact, they were very true. Roger had been on your list for a long, long time now. Not that Freddie needed to know that.

“Oh, did I say that?” you said dismissively.

“I distinctly recall it.”

“Hmm.” You scanned the partygoers, halfheartedly searching for Roger, but instead locking eyes with a black-haired cutie you recognized as one of the band’s roadies from this summer. She stood by a group of girlfriends by the barstools, and she looked away with a flustered grin. You bit back your own smirk. She clearly recognized you, too.

“Did you tell him?” you asked.

“Tell who?”

“Roger, that I said I’d shag him if he asked.”

“No,” Freddie _tutted._ “What, _should_ I have?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you had.”

“Are you trying to say you _still would?”_

You pretended to consider it, even though you fully knew the answer yourself, and shrugged. “Sure. _If_ he made an apology for calling me a bitch.”

“Roger Taylor? Apologies?” Freddie barked a laugh. “He’s severely allergic.”

“Well, I consider it a prerequisite. No apology, no shag.” 

“Funny, because he seems to be under the impression that it’s _you_ who needs to apologize first. Not that I’m taking sides.”

_Hmm._ You shrugged, brushing Freddie off. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

“You like pushing his buttons, don’t you?”

“It’s fun.”

“You certainly have a way of getting under his skin like that.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

“Remind me, what exactly happened between you two that started this ridiculous feud?”

You gazed into the distance wistfully. “Well, it all started exactly _one year ago,_ at your _last_ New Years party…”

…Meanwhile, two rooms away, Roger Taylor and Brian May were discussing the very same subject as they lounged on a sofa and sipped mugs of mulled wine.

“It all started _one year ago._ We hit it off at first, to be honest, if you could ever believe that,” Roger was explaining to Brian, who was much more preoccupied with the contents of his Solo cup than with the drummer’s story. Nevertheless, Roger went on. “Freddie introduced us, and we got to talking, and before long, we were snogging in the guest bathroom.” 

“I still can’t believe there was a point in time where you and Y/N weren’t nipping at each other’s heels. _”_

“Trust me, I can hardly believe it myself.” Roger wrinkled his nose at the memory, though not for lack of desire. The kiss had been bloody amazing. He just couldn’t believe how _daft_ he’d been back then…

“What happened after that?” 

Roger’s scowl returned. “We got to talking, and…well, I think we got into a bit of a row,” he said, scratching his head…

…Back in Freddie’s kitchen, you were on your second drink by now, and you were beginning to wave your arms as you continued to tell your story. “You should have _heard_ the insipid way he was talking,” you griped to Freddie. “Going on about the ‘proper way to pick up girls,’ acting like he was God’s gift to womankind. What a prick. He was starting to annoy me. So I told him off.”

“What’d you tell him?” Freddie asked, listening intently, munching on a platter of shrimp cocktail like it was a bucket of movie theater popcorn. 

“I told him I thought I could do better. With all the girls he was trying to pick up. He didn’t like that at all.”

Freddie gaped. “He didn’t insult you for liking girls, did he…?”

You shook your head. “No, nothing like that. I just think I caught him off-guard when he realized I was bi. But I told him he wasn’t shit, and I don’t think he liked that at all. I gave it to him straight. I told him he masked his insecurities and his fragile masculinity by being cocky and conceited. And that’s when he called me a bitch.” You took a sassy sip of your drink.

“You psychoanalyzed him,” Freddie remarked. “He probably _hated_ that…”

… “She started _insulting_ me out of the blue,” Roger ranted to Brian in the lounge room. “It was completely unprecedented. So I told her she didn’t have to be such a bitch, and she went all bonkers and stormed off.”

“Hmm.” Brian was clearly growing disinterested, but Roger was on a rant now and couldn’t stop.

“And the next thing I knew, she was leaving the party with Candace. As in, my _ex-girlfriend_ Candace…”

… Freddie was laughing his ass off in the kitchen. “You—you never told me—” He burst into a fit of giggles. “You left—you left with _Candy?_ You hooked up with _Roger’s ex?”_

“I wanted to teach him a lesson,” you said. And not to mention, Candy had been keen on revenge against the boy who’d broken her heart—and more than eager to make it happen with you.

“I didn’t even know Candy was into girls?”

“Nor did Roger, apparently!”

Freddie was wheezing. You laughed with him, letting your gaze fall back to the raven-haired roadie by the barstools while Freddie tried to recover. To your surprise, she was looking right back at you. You quirked an eyebrow. She smirked. _What was her name again…?_ you wondered.

“So did Roger _see_ you leave with his ex?” Freddie asked. 

“I made sure he did,” you said, helping yourself to a glassful of the pitcher of green-colored booze on the counter, labeled _Jingle Juice_.

“And so he’s hated you ever since then?”

“Yup.” Roadie Girl was not-so-furtively staring your way again. _Jill—that’s her name._ “He spent the whole summer trying to get back at me…”

… “She spent _all summer_ rubbing it in my face!” Roger was fully slumped over into the arm of the couch by now, not from inebriation, but rather from the weight of his own indignation. “And then Freddie, the wanker, decided to hire her as his personal wardrobe assistant. _Personal wardrobe assistant._ What a load of bollocks. We barely had enough money to cover hotels and transport, and Freddie couldn’t even bear to dress himself.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Rog. I was there,” Brian droned, checking his wristwatch. 

“And then Y/N started making it into a bloody _game._ Every girl I had my eye on, she got there first. _Every. Damn. Time.”_

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I don’t get it! She’s not even _that_ attractive,” Roger grumbled. “And there’s no way _every_ groupie at our shows just _happened_ to be bisexual, too.”

Brian cocked an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re just jealous she was stealing your thunder.”

“I’m—no, shut up, that’s _not_ what this is about,” Roger tried to defend himself. But he knew the effort was futile. “She made it her personal fucking vendetta to fuck up all my chances. She just… She just cramped my style, you know?”

“‘Cramped your style?’” Brian repeated.

“Yeah. I mean, the only competition I used to put up with was _you_ , and that isn’t saying much.”

“Watch it,” Brian growled.

“I mean it, mate. Space dust isn’t sexy.”

“Wh—Yes, it _is_ ,” Brian sputtered. “Girls like talking about space.”

“Keep telling yourself that, mate.”

“I like to begin intellectual conversations with—”

“If I know you,” Roger interrupted, “you still can’t get yourself a proper shag.”

Brian was irked. “I’ve gotten _plenty_ of girls to shag me,” he defended himself.

Roger shook his head condescendingly. “Right pity shags, that’s all they were, then.” Just as Brian was about to smack Roger’s arm, Roger moved out of the way and snorted. “Bugger off, I was just fucking around.”

Brian gave him a level look. “You’re jealous.”

“Of you? Hah!”

_“No,_ of Y/N.” Brian glared. “Y/N got more _action_ than you did this summer, and you’re just jealous of her.”

“Fuck you, Brian.”

“I’m just saying, that’s a stupid reason to start a feud with someone.”

“I didn’t start it, _she_ did!” But even Roger knew how childish that sounded, so he sighed and added, “I guess I was just… I was just ticked off that she left with Candy that night.”

“You do remember it was _you_ who broke up with Candy, right?”

Roger knew Brian was right, but he had become so disgruntled that he couldn’t take it anymore. He heaved himself onto his feet and grumbled under his breath as he stormed away. 

Faintly, Roger could hear Brian snickering under his breath.

_Fuck,_ he needed a smoke. And another drink or two. But just before he walked into the kitchen, he heard a familiar laugh— _your_ laugh—and stopped dead on his feet. 

You were still in the kitchen with Freddie. Peering around the corner, Roger watched as the two of you tipped your heads back with laughter, talking about God knows what. A familiar knotted feeling settled in Roger’s stomach, that confounding combination of contempt and annoyance and anxiety…and desire. That wretched twist of desire.

He withdrew his gaze. There was no way he was going to cross paths with you tonight, not if he could help it. 

Still, Roger was too sober for his liking. Scowling, he glanced between the kitchen and the backyard, unsure of what to do, when a voice piped up beside him. 

“Something the matter, hun?”

It was Jillian, one of the roadies who accompanied Roger’s band on tour this summer. She was surrounded by an entourage of similarly attractive girls, each of whom were gazing at him with interest.

“Not anymore,” Roger drawled.

Jill smiled, and Roger mirrored her. _Fuck_ , she was gorgeous. He’d admittedly not given her much thought this summer. But from the way she was looking him down and up right now, Roger couldn’t help but wonder if the night would be ending in some mutually beneficial way. Roger’s pants suddenly felt a little tighter. 

“It’s been a few months,” Jill said, twiddling with the straw in her drink. “How have you been since the tour, Rogie?”

“Better now,” Roger said, and the girls all giggled. Roger’s stomach jolted in the best of ways as he surveyed them. There were a lot of things about tonight of which he was unsure, but _this_ —being surrounded by gorgeous women—was his prime habitat. _This_ was his comfort zone.

While Roger led Jill over to an empty spot on the loveseat in the lounge room, you and Freddie were just wrapping up your conversation. Freddie kissed both of your cheeks again and bid you adieu. 

“I’ve shirked my hosting duties long enough,” Freddie said, preparing two flutes of champagne. He handed you one and held his in the air ceremoniously. “One for the road!”

You smiled and clinked glasses with him. “Cheers, Fred!”

“Cheers, darling. Don’t be too hard on him tonight.”

As Freddie took off, you smiled to yourself and examined the room, feeling as light and bubbly as the Moët and Chandon in your glass. There were a thousand possibilities for how tonight could go, and in your brain, they all ended with you and a flustered Roger Taylor behind a closed door. If you were being honest with yourself, you’ve wanted to fuck Roger for a long time coming now.

And Freddie had just given you a delicious reason to believe the feeling was mutual for Roger. 

But, at least, if your plan with Roger fell through, you’d always have Jill to flirt with.

_Speaking of which…_

You scanned the bar area for Jill and her girlfriends, but they’d disappeared. Curious, you left the kitchen and sauntered around the house, chatting briefly with old friends as you passed by, all while keeping an eye out for either Jill or Roger. 

Turns out, they’d decided to make it easy for you, because they ended up being together. The bubbly feeling in your chest quickly fizzled away as you took in the sight of Jill perched on Roger’s lap in an armchair as he told some grand story, his hands resting on Jill’s waist.

You ground your teeth. Who were you more jealous of—Jill, or Roger…?

“But the hairdresser ended up being _his cousin!”_

Jill squealed with laughter at Roger’s story, which had worked like a charm in getting her to giggle, even if the story was entirely fabricated. She threw her arms around Roger’s neck and leaned heavily against him, her laughter contagious. 

“You really are a card, aren’t you, Rogie?”

“True story, I swear,” Roger drawled. He tapped Jill’s side, motioning for her to stand. “Need a drag. Mind refilling this for me and meeting me outside, love? Maybe we can get out of here, if you want.”

Jill smiled, coy as always, and went to the kitchen. Roger watched her hips sway as she went and smirked to himself. 

He made his way outside to the porch, where it was quieter and less crowded. The warmth of the smoke filling his lungs as he took his first drag of the night felt good against the cold bite of the wintery air. There was still about an hour to go until the new year came, but the hills were already thundering with the sound of distant fireworks.

As much as Roger wanted to be one-track-minded tonight and focus on what it would take to take Jill home with him, he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering back to you. Exactly one year ago, you and Roger had been complete strangers who locked eyes from across the room. One year ago, you and Roger nearly shagged in Freddie’s guest bathroom. One year ago, Roger thought you were singlehandedly the most angelic girl he’d ever seen.

That was before the falling out, before the backstabbing with Candy, before a whole summer of spiteful glares and one-upmanship.

One year ago, you had been utterly irresistible to Roger. And the truth was, you still were. 

You were nothing plain of a seductress, and no one was immune to your charms, not men nor women nor anybody else. You had a way with people, and not just through the scope of sexual attraction—although you were lacking literally nothing in that regard. But people liked you, genuinely liked you. You seemed to be able to get a feel for a room right off the bat, the same way you were able to get a feel for a potential nightly companion after a single conversation. It made Roger envious how _easy_ it seemed for you to pick up anyone you wanted. Roger had to work so much harder to get a bird to come home with him, and not that he disliked the chase, but _god,_ the ease of your endeavors was maddening.

And Roger could never tell who he was more jealous of—you, or the girls you shagged. 

As much as you intrigued and infuriated him, you also intimidated him. At least he could admit _that_ to himself. Roger was all too keen on what it felt like to be the subject of your scrutiny. Just the mere sight of you caused his heart to start pounding. Maybe it was the gorgeous curves of your body, or the perpetual quirk of your lips, or the way Roger knew how effortlessly you could dismantle every brick in the wall of his insecurities…but in any regard, you made Roger feel weak. You made Roger forget who he wanted to be.

He shuddered in disgust, though more at himself than at you. He simply couldn’t _stand_ being around you. He couldn’t stand that you were here at Fred’s godforsaken New Years party again. He couldn’t stand that you were prancing about in your slinky little cocktail dress as if you were some kind of royalty. He couldn’t stand that you were in the kitchen with one of his best mates, prattling on about god knows what. He couldn’t stand that everyone in the whole house adored you. He especially couldn’t stand that you _knew_ he was here, that you _knew_ how to push his buttons, that you _knew_ exactly what you were doing to him.

Did you?

It was getting chilly, and Roger hadn’t brought his coat outside. Jill hadn’t shown up with his drink, and he wondered if she’d forgotten about him. He realized that it had been a quarter-hour since he stepped outside for a smoke—and he’d had nearly three without even realizing it. He quickly extinguished the cigarette in his hand and turned back to the sliding glass door leading inside. 

And immediately wished he hadn’t.

_No. Not again. No!_

Jill had forgotten about Roger, alright. And she had evidently replaced him with a sly-eyed Y/N.

…

Jill had traipsed her way into the kitchen, Roger’s empty glass in hand, when you had finally run into her. “Thank god,” she said dramatically when she spotted you. “I need to ask a favor from you, Y/N.”

Turns out, Jill wasn’t all that keen on going home with Roger tonight. She’d asked if you would be willing to “pretend to be interested” in her, just so she could get Roger off her back. You’d nearly choked laughing at the irony of the situation. How mutually beneficial was it that Jill wanted your help to ward off Roger…while at the same time, you wanted Jill’s help to push Roger’s buttons one more time. 

And so that’s how you ended up making out with Jill in the side hallway, directly in the line of sight where Roger was having a smoke outside. 

“You know, it’s funny, ‘cause I’m actually quite into you,” you murmured in Jill’s ear once you finally broke away from the kiss. You had her pinned against the wall of the hallway under a string of scarlet Christmas lights. Her lips tasted like mint and gin, and her body felt intoxicatingly warm pressed up against yours. “The Roger situation aside.”

“Hmm, really?” Her hands roamed up your sides. “I had an inkling you weren’t just pretending.”

Her touch made you shiver. “Not at all.”

“Funny thing, ‘m pretty into you, too. Always have been.”

“Even though I’m trying to get with Roger tonight?” 

“Don’t blame you, he’s quite the looker. Not really my type, though. He definitely has the wrong impression about where things were gonna go between us.” She gasped a little as you brought your lips to the hollow of her throat. You liked making her gasp. “Funny how we’re both sort of using each other, though, innit?”

“You don’t mind, do you?” you asked, running your tongue along the line of her collarbone.

“Not in the slightest,” she said before sighing at the sensation of your tongue. “I’m on the prowl tonight, just like you. Although I don’t quite see how snogging me is going to get Roger to fuck you.”

“Our relationship is…precarious,” you said. You snuck a glance out of the corner of your eye to the porch. “Roger’s still outside smoking.”

“He’ll come back inside and notice us soon enough.” Jill brought a hand to your chin and tilted your face back up. She bit her lip and smiled before leaning in again and pressing her lips to yours. 

_Fuck,_ she was a good kisser. You found yourself really getting into it…dare you say, getting _lost_ in it. She slipped a deft tongue between your lips, and you couldn’t contain the moan in your throat as it danced over your teeth. 

“Have fun with Roger tonight, but call me tomorrow,” Jill purred when you broke away for air. You giggled and kissed her again, and her hands began inching lower and lower to the hem of your silver cocktail dress. She really knew how to get you going, it seemed. You certainly would be calling her.

A loud _ahem_ from behind nearly startled you. You broke away from Jill and spun around to see an extremely red-faced Roger Taylor.

“Oh, Roger, what a pleasant surprise! I didn’t know you were here!” you tittered. Jill thumbed away a smudge of your lipstick from her chin. 

Roger looked as though he had steam coming from his ears. It made you smirk. “We need to talk,” he nearly snarled at you.

You exchanged a look with Jill, the two of you trying to hide your smiles. “We were sort of in the middle of something—” you began.

_“Now,”_ Roger hissed. He grasped your arm—not strongly enough to hurt, but firmly enough to prove a point—and dragged you down the hallway.

“Call me, Y/N,” Jill said to you with a wink. You smiled knowingly after her, but as Roger dragged you off, your heart hammered at the thought of what might happen next.

♡ ♡ ♡ 

**A/N:** Soooo how are we liking NYE? Any predictions for what’s going to happen? Where could Roger be taking Y/N? What sorts of tricks do you suspect Y/N has up her sleeve? 

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	2. part two

Roger’s vision tunneled as he marched you down the hallway toward the back of the house. He hardly noticed as groups of partygoers stared questioningly after your strange duo.

“Where are we going?” you tried to ask, nearly stumbling as Roger reached one of the back staircases. He was tugging at your arm, urging you to move faster.

“Away,” he answered gruffly. He could hardly _believe_ what he’d seen when he came back inside after his smoke break. And he hated more than anything that the sight of Y/N and Jill snogging in the hallway stirred more than just fury inside him.

Roger truly had no idea how to differentiate all the different emotions he was feeling at the moment. He only knew that he was feeling _all_ of them at once. And he was about to fucking implode.

Much to your delight, Roger was leading you to the very same guest bathroom he led you to one year ago. How fitting…although he looked much more like he wanted to scream at you than he wanted to kiss you.

Riled up. Flustered and frustrated. Just how you wanted him.

“Let me go,” you whined as he pulled you by the arm into the bathroom. You rubbed your arm dramatically as he slammed the door shut. 

And then he whirled on you. But whatever words were about to erupt from his mouth completely vanished from his lips the moment he took you in. 

Your hair was tousled, your lipstick slightly smudged, your doe eyes wide and dark in the dim lighting of the bathroom. And you stole Roger’s breath away, literally.

“What?” you asked. Roger’s jaw worked as he ground his teeth, and his eyes had a familiar feral glint. He looked like he was about to shit himself with anger.

“Fuck you,” he blurted. It wasn’t what he’d wanted to say at all.

You nearly chortled a laugh. “How eloquent of you,” you commented in a wry voice. “Now tell me how you really feel.”

You waited patiently for him to speak. When he said nothing, you heaved a breathy sigh and turned apathetically to the bathroom mirror. “That’s all you’ve got, then?” you asked him.

Roger blinked, glaring at your reflection in the mirror as you plucked a tissue from the box and dabbed delicately at the corner of your mouth. Everything he’d been rehearsing the whole way upstairs was completely gone. He hated how you had that power over him.

“This bathroom,” you mused when he still didn’t speak. “Isn’t this the same bathroom you dragged me to last year? We’ve certainly come full circle, haven’t we?”

Roger froze and felt his cheeks grow even hotter. He hadn’t even realized it was the same bathroom. “Go to hell.”

“Maybe I will. Heard the weather’s nice.”

“You fucking knew,” Roger accused. You quirked an eyebrow. “Jill,” he clarified. “You _knew.”_

“You’re not making much sense, sweetie.”

“You _knew_ I was trying to get with her tonight.” Gaining back his bravado, Roger stepped closer to you. “You’re fucking with me again.”

“It worked, though, didn’t it?” you drawled, studying the way Roger’s nostrils flared in the reflection.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Roger said. “Is that why you’re here? To start sabotaging me again?”

“Really, I just couldn’t pass up a good holiday party.” You gave your red lips a final smack and turned to face Roger. “Thought you’d be happy to see me again.”

“Like hell I am,” Roger spat. “I can’t believe you…you…”

He trailed off. You didn’t miss the way his eyes flitted to your cleavage inadvertently. 

“I’m sick of this,” he finally said. “Sick of _you.”_

“Are you?” 

_No,_ Roger thought. In fact, he couldn’t get enough of you. And he _hated_ that. He hated the way your very presence in such close proximity to him after so many months apart unlocked all kinds of repressed emotions in Roger’s chest. He hated the way your watchful doe eyes made him feel like he was about to come undone…either from indignation, or from lust. 

Roger’s eyes roved down your shapely body again. It was a few seconds before he realized it and snapped his angry gaze back up to your face. You bit back a giggle, which clearly angered him.

“Why are you here?” he insisted.

“I told you, I love Fred’s parties.”

_“Why. Are. You. Here.”_ He was practically breathing out fire now.

You tilted your head. “Look at you. So flustered. It’s lovely.” You bit your lip at the sight of his reddened cheeks. You wanted to feel the scratch of his stubble against your neck…between your thighs…

Roger shifted uncomfortably. “Stop fucking with me.”

“But it’s so fun.”

_She’s enjoying this._ He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch the bathroom mirror. He wanted to kiss you silly.

“I think the real question…” you said, “is why did _you_ bring me up here?”

Roger gulped. “To tell you to stop fucking with me and my personal life.”

“Oh, you mean Jill?” you said flippantly.

“Jill was the last fucking straw.” Roger stepped closer, radiating heat and wrath. “This rivalry ends right here, right now.”

“There’s nothing to end, love,” you drawled. “I don’t know what this ‘rivalry’ is you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play daft, Y/N.” Roger ground his teeth. “You spent the whole fucking summer going out of your way to sabotage every chance I had. _Every. Damn. One.”_

You chuckled. “You know what I think?” You leaned toward him, and you heard his breath catch in his throat. “I think you’re just a jealous, embarrassed little drummer boy who can’t admit to himself that someone might be better than him at something.”

“That’s not fucking true.”

“Oh, I think it is. I think it’s time for you to face the facts, Roger Taylor. I’m better with girls than you.”

You were so close now that you could smell the smoke and cologne on his skin. Roger narrowed his eyes at you, and when he spoke, you could feel the heat of his breath fan out over your face. “Shut up.”

“I’m better at _flirting_ with girls…” You came even closer. “…picking up girls… _fucking_ girls—”

_“Shut. Up.”_ Roger’s fists clenched.

“You’re just upset because it’s the truth.”

“It’s _not.”_ He could punch the mirror, he really could. “This ends _now,_ I mean it, I swear to God.”

You smirked at him. “Tell me, Roger. When you saw me and Jill in the hallway, who were you more jealous of?”

His throat bobbed again. “I’m not fucking jealous—”

“Oh, you _were_ jealous. We wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. Now _tell me.”_ Your voice went sugar sweet. “Were you more jealous of me…or of Jill?”

“What are you suggesting?” he snapped.

“That you want me.” 

Your words caught him off guard, but they seemed to spark another fire, this time causing him to bark a laugh. “You think I want _you?”_ Roger spat. “Are you really that conceited?”

You didn’t falter. “You want me, and that’s a _fact.”_

“You really think the fucking universe revolves around you, don’t you?” Roger puffed his shoulders out. “I’ve got news for you, princess. _It doesn’t._ I want _nothing_ to do with you.”

You shivered. _Princess. That’s a new one._ “If you didn’t want me,” you purred, “then why did Freddie catch you wanking off to a photograph of me?”

Roger’s whole body went stiff.

“No,” he gaped.

“Oh, yes,” you said with a smirk. 

Roger’s entire world seemed to freeze. _No. NO. NO!!!_

That fateful night had been so many months ago that Roger had almost entirely forgotten the incident. That summer, after a post-gig band party at a hotel pool. Freddie walking in on a scene he wasn’t supposed to see…

…A polaroid photo of Y/N in her swimsuit in Roger’s left hand, and in his right…

Freddie had laughed and laughed, and Roger had avoided him for the next week. When he’d finally seen Freddie again, Roger swore him to secrecy about the incident. Freddie had jested him about it a few more times before he finally agreed not to tell a soul.

But now Y/N knows. _She knows._

“Bastard,” Roger barked, whether to you or to Freddie he didn’t really know.

“Ouch,” you said sarcastically. “Can’t change the facts, though, love.”

“You—I’m—I—” Roger stammered. He backed up toward the closed door. You approached him again, tutting your tongue.

“Poor thing,” you cooed. You toyed with the collar of his shirt, pretending to straighten it, and smirked when he swatted your hands away. “Must’ve been _so_ frustrated, all that pent-up rage. And desire. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Where’d you get that photograph of me anyway? Did you take it yourself, when I wasn’t looking?”

He had found it among a stash of polaroids Freddie had taken that night at the pool party. But Roger was too dumbfounded to explain himself or say anything coherent.

His heart hammered, and from the way you were looking him up and down, all the blood was going straight to his cock.

“T-That wasn’t—” he stuttered. “I mean—I don’t—”

“I know your little secret now, Rog,” you taunted him, drawing nearer and nearer. “I wonder how many times you’ve thought of me while you stroked yourself, hmm?”

You were only inches away from him now, and your chest brushed against his. Your breath was as honey-sweet as your tone of voice, and Roger felt his knees threaten to buckle. He wanted to drop to the ground in front of you. But he was frozen.

“You wanna put an end to this little game of ours?” you murmured.

Roger blinked rapidly, his mouth closing and opening. That mouth was too damn pretty, and you wanted it all over your body.

“I want you to fuck me, right here, right now. And I promise I’ll never steal another one of your dates again.”

Roger couldn’t believe his ears. “I…” _Holy shit. Holy shit._

“Fuck me, Roger,” you whispered, pressing more of your body against his. “Isn’t that what you think about, alone in your bed at night? Kissing me… _touching_ me…my legs wrapped around you?”

Roger’s hands flew up instinctively to the soft curves of your sides. He was about to pass out with desire. 

You brought your lips to the shell of his ear. “Or maybe you think about fucking me into your mattress so hard that I can’t do anything but scream your name and _take it.”_ Your own words were making you wet. “Balls deep inside me, over and over again, taking all your anger out on me, _ravishing me…”_

“Fuck,” Roger whispered.

“I want you to fuck me. I want you to _show_ me just how angry you make me. Tell me you want me, Roger,” you breathed into his ear, raising goosebumps all over his body. “Wanna hear you say it, baby.”

“I want…” Roger said, his voice shaky. “I want…”

But he couldn’t finish his sentence, because he felt your soft lips brush against the edge of his jaw, and that was it. He couldn’t take it anymore.

Roger grasped your shoulders and spun you around. Your body slammed against the bathroom door, but a hand on the back of your head softened the impact. Suddenly, he had _you_ pinned against the bathroom door. You barely had time to realize what was happening before he tangled his fingers in your hair and kissed you.

There was nothing delicate about it. Roger’s mouth was all heat and heaviness and desperation, a product of unrestrained passion and outrage. You mirrored his urgency and grasped for purchase at the hem of his shirt. Roger grunted and seized your hands, pinning them above your head. 

You smiled against his lips. This is what you wanted all along. 

Roger was drinking you in completely. So many months of burning fury and desire, all leading to this moment. He couldn’t fathom how your lips and your body fit so perfectly against his. He wanted you. _Needed_ you.

“Oh, god,” you breathed as soon as Roger broke away and attacked your neck. His stubble was as heavenly as you’d expected. You tilted your head back, giving him better access. You buried your hands in his mussy blonde hair, and he raked his hands down your body. Chills of lust and anticipation washed over your whole body. 

“Fuck,” Roger cursed again. He brought his face back up to yours and held your cheeks in his hands. There was fire behind his eyes. “You make me _so fucking angry.”_

You smirked, and Roger grasped your chin hard in response.

“Don’t smile like that,” he growled. 

“You’re sexy as hell when you’re angry,” you said, trying to jerk your chin away, but he held tight. He kissed you again, and your toes curled. You reached for the bottom button of his shirt, but he wrenched your hand away.

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing this _my_ way,” Roger demanded. “I’m so fed up with the way you’ve been jerking me around. It’s _my_ turn now.”

You shivered but kept your air of defiance. “We’ll see how long that lasts,” you taunted. 

Roger growled in frustration as he kissed you again, prying your mouth open with the hand on your chin. His tongue moved with yours, dancing, both of you desperate to taste and explore each other. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that fiendish grin off your face, by whatever means at his disposal.

Still kissing you, Roger pulled you across the bathroom. He hoisted you up by the waist so you were perched on the cabinet countertop. He wedged himself between your knees, and you gasped as his hands found your breasts, squeezing them over the slippery material of your cocktail dress. One hand slipped beneath the neckline and found your nipple, giving it a pinch that sent a shock down your spine. Your back arched and a moan escaped your throat in response, and Roger realized he hadn’t felt this powerful in a long time. So many months of feeling helpless against you and your devilish ways, and finally, _finally,_ he had you under his thumb.

And you fucking loved it.

“Such a fucking tease,” Roger said, toying with the dress bunched up around your thighs. “Dressing like this. Just _begging_ for someone to take it off.”

“For you,” you said breathlessly.

Roger raised a brow. “For _me?_ ” The realization hit him. “You _planned_ on this.”

Your wry smile confirmed Roger’s suspicions. Roger had no idea how long you’d been waiting for this moment to happen. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” you said coyly as Roger pulled down the zipper at the side of your dress. You shrugged and let one slender strap slip down your shoulder. Roger promptly replaced the strap with his lips against your collarbone. His mouth traced lower and lower down your neckline. He pawed your dress out of the way and you gasped at the feeling of his mouth on your breast, his tongue on your nipple.

“You can’t resist me, can you?” you breathed.

At that, Roger nipped lightly at your nipple—you yelped and jolted. Faintly, you could hear the low rumble of Roger’s chuckle. 

“You’re one to talk. Take a look in the mirror,” Roger murmured. “Such a little slut for me.”

He’d meant it figuratively, but as Roger sucked on your breasts, you couldn’t help but take a glance in the bathroom mirror behind you. Your hair was a mess and your eyes were blown wide as Roger’s hands roamed your body. It was quite a sight. 

“You know, you and I are not that much different,” you said, looking down at Roger kissing your breasts. He glanced up at you, his eyes severe. “What, does that upset you?”

It did upset Roger. You were a devil, and he didn’t want to be like you. “Stop talking,” he muttered and dragged his calloused hands up your thighs. God, your skin was like velvet. He couldn’t get enough of the feeling, even though it felt like he was sinning. 

“We’re both competitive,” you went on, ignoring him. “We both have great taste in fashion. We both think we’re right, all the time. We both like sex. We both like taking control.”

Roger made a low noise. You weren’t sure whether it was due to your last statement or due to the fact that his hands had found the hem of your satin underwear. 

“We both like girls,” you say, slowly and plainly. Taunting him. “Kissing girls, touching girls, _tasting_ girls.”

He knew you were just trying to get a rise out of him again, but he straightened and grabbed your chin again, forcing it down to face him. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you,” he rasped, thumbing your bottom lip. “But I think it’s time you shut up.”

Your inhale came in a low gasp. Roger pressed his fingers against your clothed heat, and his mouth twisted into a wry smile. You knew he could feel how wet you were already. 

“I don’t wanna hear another word from those pretty lips of yours,” he purred, rubbing his fingers over the wet spot on your panties. He pushed his forefinger between your lips, and the heat of your mouth made his heart thump. “Got it, princess?”

There was that delicious nickname again. You batted your eyes and nodded, his finger pressing against the tip of your tongue. 

Roger didn’t want to waste a second more of his time. He withdrew his finger from your lips with a _pop_ and crouched on the ground between your legs. He forced your knees open again, spreading you nice and wide, and snapped the waistband of your panties against your skin.

You mewled and rolled your hips in anticipation, and Roger could have sworn he watched the wet spot on the silken fabric grow darker. He grabbed you around the hips, scooting you closer to the edge of the counter. 

And he buried his face between your thighs. 

You gasped loudly and fell back onto your elbows. But you quickly pushed yourself back upright, desperate to see the sight before you. Roger had his whole mouth and nose pressed up against your underwear, his fingers so tight on your thighs they were leaving indents. His mouth was so warm that you had to moan, and his tongue…

“Holy fuck,” you said. “Roger, you’re…”

He pulled away and gave you a scornful look. “Not a word, remember?” he reminded you, hooking his thumbs around your panties and pulling them off with excruciating slowness. “Don’t make me say it again, or else I’ll pull away, and you’ll be the one giving me head.”

Your mouth could water at the idea of Roger’s cock in your mouth. But you’d think about that later.

Roger tossed your panties across the room and studied your pussy, all wet and pink and spread out wide for him. He pressed his thumb lightly at your entrance, felt the wetness there directly, watched a bead of it dribble out from it. He licked his lips and gave an experimental kiss to your clit. 

You jerked as if you’d been electrocuted. _Holy god—_

Roger’s tongue darted out and lapped at you. The sound that came out of your mouth was a high pitched keen. It seemed to spur him on, and he wrapped his arms around your thighs as if he was trying to pull you as close as possible. Your eyes fluttered closed and you saw stars whirling behind them. 

He never imagined anyone could taste so good. Like the sweetest, juiciest fruit he’d ever tasted. Roger felt like he was in heaven, right here between your legs like this, your thighs warming his ears. You grunted and squirmed and he gripped your hips tight, holding you steady. And when you tried to bury your hands in his hair, he wrenched them away, pinning them to the table. He wasn’t about to relinquish one bit of control with you. 

You were in heaven yourself. Roger’s mouth was rough and warm as he had his way with you, and you inwardly cursed yourself for not making this happen sooner. A thin sheen of sweat formed on your forehead and the familiar tinge of need in your core was growing and growing with each lap of Roger’s tongue. You moaned wantonly and rolled your hips against his face, grinding on his tongue. You tried to tug your hands away, desperate to tangle your fingers in his blonde locks. He may have your hands pinned to the counter, but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to take some control.

_Fine,_ Roger thought, releasing his grip on your hands. He’d let you have your moment of control. But only because he wanted nothing more than to slip a finger inside your dripping cunt.

You gasped at Roger’s finger playing at your entrance. He looked up at you, eyes questioning. “Tell me what you need,” he rasped. You hesitated, and he added, “Tell me. I give you permission.”

“I need your fingers,” you whined.

Roger smiled, your words pleasing him. He let his finger gather your wetness and pushed it past your folds. You moaned long and low, and Roger could have cum himself right then.

“You’re fucking _soaked,”_ he said. God, he hated his trousers right now. His cock was straining painfully against them. He curled his finger upward toward your belly button.

You arched your back and shrieked. The movement sent a ripple of pleasure across your groin. Eyes fluttering, you glanced down at the drummer to find him grinning wickedly, and you knew right then and there that he would have his way with you. _Holy fuck._

And then his finger curled again, and again, and again. And then a second finger. And then his mouth was on you, and—oh _fuck—his tongue_ on your clit. His stubble scraped deliciously against your inner thighs as he worked you closer to the edge. You fell back onto your elbows, your head resting against the mirror, unable to contain your moans. _Too loud_. What if people heard? Did you really even give a shit? And then the realization suddenly hit that neither of you had locked the bathroom door.

“Roger,” you panted desperately. Your pleasure suddenly swelled at the thought of someone barging in on accident…seeing you sprawled out on the counter, legs opened wide for _Roger Taylor…_ “Fuck, Roger, _fuck, oh fuck…”_

He could sense it. You were close. Your hips bucked and your breathing grew erratic, and it was just about the sexiest thing Roger could ever experience, second only to the thought of you cumming all over his tongue and fingers. But Roger had other plans.

Each lap of his tongue, each thrust of his finger, felt as if he were stripping away every layer of your poise and dignity until you were nothing but an incoherent, desperate, moaning mess for him. The fire in your core burned hotter and hotter, and you were just on the brink of—

The fire was smothered, and Roger pushed away.

_“No,”_ you whined, glaring desperately at him. He was smirking.

“We’re doing this the way I want,” he said, his voice low and grating. He wiped a palm across his glistening mouth.

You were in agony. “Fuck you,” you cried. You had been _so fucking close!_ You wanted to punch his stupid, haughty face. “You fucking asshole.”

Roger chuckled to himself, and you scowled at him. His chest swelled with pride at the way your smug eloquence from earlier had all but disintegrated. You looked as if you might murder him now. 

You looked like you needed a good fucking.

“And you’re a little brat who needs to be taught a lesson,” Roger snarled, pushing himself to his feet. He palmed himself through his trousers, wincing in pain at how hard he already was. 

You slumped over with the exertion of a denied orgasm, all the while shooting daggers at Roger’s satisfied face. But at the sight of Roger unbuttoning and unzipping himself, revealing the prominent bulge in his underwear, your eyes went wide.

“Sit up,” he commanded. When you didn’t comply, he leaned close to your flushed face, glowering at you. _“Sit. Up.”_

The dangerous edge to his voice went straight to your throbbing core. Grinding your teeth, you hoisted yourself upright, sitting at the edge of the counter.

Maybe it was your imagination, but Roger’s face seemed to soften a bit as he thumbed your bottom lip again. But his words were no less gruff. “Wanna see what this pretty mouth of yours can do. Get on your knees.”

You gaped at him. “That isn’t fucking fair.” It was childish of you, but you were _so fucking close_ to cumming. The fact that he’d deny you that pleasure and take it for himself… Fuck, who were you kidding? You’d probably cum yourself from just the taste of Roger’s cock. The number of times you’d fantasized about sucking him off—about swallowing his load of cum while he held your head in place—was too many to count. 

Yeah, okay, if you had to admit it to yourself, you really _really_ wanted to blow Roger. You could ignore your own needs for a little while longer.

But at your words, Roger blinked and took a few steps back. And when he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically soft. “I don’t want to make you do anything you’re not comfortable doing.”

A reality check. It was as if it was somebody completely different speaking. It was as if he was breaking character. But his eyes were genuine as he studied your face.

You locked eyes with him and reached for his collar. Slowly, you pulled him close to you, close enough for you to lean in and whisper into his ear. “You misunderstand me,” you whispered. “I wanna make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

You pulled away and watched his expression change. His eyelids fluttered, his lips parted. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

You smiled sweetly at him. In lieu of a response, you slowly got down on your knees before him and looked up patiently, expectantly.

Roger’s mouth fell open. He didn’t move. So you took control.

With practiced hands, you pulled his trousers all the way off and cupped the bulge of his cock. Roger made a low grunt, his eyes bright with anticipation. You studied the muscles of his slender thighs, caressing them with the tips of your fingers followed by a trail of feather-light kisses until goosebumps raised on his skin. You reached the hem of his underwear, kissing your way up to the apex of his groin, groaning a little yourself at the way he felt so warm and smelled so good. A hand came to your hair, smoothing it back and out of your face—an almost endearing gesture. 

You kissed his soft belly, kissed down the trail of hair, and tugged at his underwear. “Wanna taste you,” you murmured. Roger’s hand massaged the back of your neck. You pulled the fabric down, and his cock sprung out in full view. And you’d be lying if you said your mouth didn’t start watering. He was rock hard, his head swollen and red with need. 

You pursed your lips and looked up at Roger. He cocked an eyebrow, as if to say, _Yeah, I know I’m huge._

He caressed your face, again letting his thumb run across your bottom lip, dragging it down. “Open your mouth,” he said. You did. _“More.”_

You showed him your tongue. Roger bit his lip and groaned.

“Such a good little slut.” Roger gave himself a few pumps, but you were beyond impatient. You swatted his hands away, taking him in your hands yourself. After a couple quick kisses on either side of his shaft, you took him in your mouth. 

Roger swore. That first moment of contact with your warm, wet mouth was like a dream. His hand on the back of your head became tangled in your hair, the gesture partly out of encouragement and partly of domination. Not that you needed his guidance—you knew _exactly_ what to do. 

“Fu-uck,” Roger cursed again, his voice catching. His cock hit the back of your throat, not enough to make you gag but enough to make your eyes flutter. And then you pulled away, excruciatingly slow, letting the flat part of your tongue drag along the veins of his shaft. And then you were peppering little kisses and licks to his head, to the sensitive place at the base of it that you seemed to know would drive him mad. 

Eventually, Roger forgot all about trying to control you—clearly, the hand on the back of your head was more inhibiting than guiding. He moved his hands to the wall and let you take full control. 

Smart move. It wasn’t long before Roger _needed_ the support of the wall behind him, for his knees threatened to buckle. You’d brought your hand to his shaft, pumping him as you sucked him off. The sight of your cheeks hollowed would be seared in his mind forever. The feel of your mouth was invigorating, addicting, like a rush of nicotine to the head, like the first drop on a roller coaster, like the first time he fell in love…

_Roger, what the fuck?_ He shook his head to clear his insipid thoughts, but there was no clearing the fog of an impending orgasm.

“Y/N,” he breathed. He hadn’t intended your name to slip out, but it did, and you certainly seemed to enjoy it. You smirked around his cock and sped up the pace…which is precisely what Roger didn’t want. “Y/N, fuck,” he said more urgently.

But you weren’t going to let up—not if you could help it. You knew what he was trying to do. He wanted to experience the thrill of controlling you like this, fucking your mouth, but that wasn’t what he ultimately wanted. You knew he wanted to fuck you. He wanted you to get him all nice and hard and ready with your mouth, and then he would push you away and bend you over and fuck your pussy. So predictable.

Not that that wasn’t a nice thought. But you wanted his cum on your tongue. And you wanted revenge.

You switched into a higher gear and worked him deep and fast, bobbing up and down on his cock with a new fervor. He inhaled sharply at the change of pace. Out of your periphery, you saw Roger’s hands hovering, indecisive, as if he wanted to push you away but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

_Fuck, what is she doing?_ Roger tried to no avail to stifle the grunts from his throat and still the bucking of his hips into your mouth. This was the skill of a woman who knew exactly how to make a man crumble. He wanted to push you off, but—no, _god_ , not _now_ , he couldn’t stop _now—_

“Y/N, please,” he whined, not sure if he was begging for you to pull off or to keep going. Clearly, you didn’t care to stop and ask, because you kept pumping him. He swore he could feel the back of your throat with each thrust. His wretched brain fixated on the idea of blowing his load down your slender throat, his dick pulsing around your mouth—

And then you pulled away. 

Roger moaned, his orgasm rapidly out of reach again. But when he looked down at his cock, wet with your saliva, he gasped at the silky ropes of semen streaming from the tip. 

_No._ The disbelief was all over his face.

You smirked in satisfaction and wiped your mouth. _Oh yes._

Roger’s cum came out dribbling rather than spurting, running in thick, slow streams down his shaft and dripping onto the floor. Roger just stared at it, the result of his ruined orgasm, his throat bobbing…his cock still throbbing and rock hard. 

He didn’t snap out of it until you leaned forward, licked him clean, swallowed, and sneered up at him.

“You just…” Roger shook his head, nostrils flaring again. The orgasm was gone, it was just _gone._ “I can’t believe you just—”

“Oh, believe it,” you grinned and got to your feet. You turned to the mirror, washed the smeared lipstick from your lips, re-adjusted your dress, ran a hand through your hair, and turned to face Roger.

And chortled a laugh at the way he was blinking dumbly at you, his hands clenched, his cock still out and fully erect. He looked as though his head were a big, angry balloon about to burst. “Something the matter?”

“You cruel bitch.”

You winced mildly. “Just a taste of your own medicine, sweetie.”

At his insult, you suddenly remembered that you had told Freddie you wouldn’t fuck Roger until he apologized for calling you a bitch last year. Not only had you forgotten about that completely, but you’d come full circle again at this year’s New Years party. You chuckled to yourself at that. He hadn’t truly fucked you, not yet, at least. Maybe you’d still hold him to apologizing.

After you readjusted the strap on your stiletto, you gave Roger one last up-down and sauntered out of the bathroom. “You can keep those,” you added, waving dismissively to your pair of panties that had been discarded on the tile.

Roger was too overwhelmed with humiliation to say anything. He just watched you walk across the bathroom and open the door to leave.

“Oh, and Roger?” you said. He gazed at you indignantly, sheepishly, expectantly. You gave him your most sickly sweet smile as you departed the bathroom. “Happy new year.”

♡ ♡ ♡ 

**A/N:**

**It is thanks to the terrific support of _you_ , my readers, who reblog my fanfics with your honest thoughts and genuine reviews, that I am inspired to continue writing. Without these comments, I lose motivation. **I write fanfiction for free (although [I accept donations](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fsweetladyy&t=OTYxNjQyMWJlZmUyMDJkZmEzNzZmNmVhYThkYzc3ZTc5MzI4M2MxOSxVbEJwVHhwVQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A9lHAj1l-jXMRGYg9I1iewg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsweet-ladyy.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184469977464%2Fmatters-of-the-heart-chapter-five&m=1) if you feel so inclined to provide); my only request for payment is a genuine expression of your thoughts ◡̈ So if you decide to write a full-out review, or add your reactions // emotions in the comments, or even if it’s just a “wow!” or just a keyboard smash, know that _any and all feedback is welcomed_ with unfettered gratitude and with Blake squealing in excitement behind her computer screen. Thank you in advance!

( _Seriously_ , I absolutely love each and every bit of feedback I receive on my works. Please please PLEASE tell me what you liked or want to see differently. Thank you thank you thank you!!!!)

Also, please refer to this post I made about sending writers compliments:

> [“Telling a writer that you _need_ the next part/chapter isn’t a compliment.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [Sure, it’s very nice to know our work is being read, and that our readers are looking forward to future parts. But a comment like ‘I need part 2 now!!!!’ on its own has absolutely no substance to us as writers. It’s almost as if you’re completely ignoring all the hard work we put into our writing, the sheer number of hours we toiled away at giving you something worth your while to read.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [If you like something you read, **tell us**. Tell us you liked it, tell us what you liked, tell us why you liked it. _This_ is what motivates us to continue writing.](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)
> 
> [In fact, I think I am speaking for most—if not all—writers that we would much prefer a simple ‘I loved this!’ to a comment that says ‘I need more!’ Don’t just demand more with no reason. Give us a reason to keep writing. Don’t be greedy consumers of entertainment. There’s too much of that in the world these days. Instead, I implore you all to be thoughtful and thorough with your comments.”](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/post/184674662019/hi-just-poppin-in-to-say-telling-a-writer-that)

**_✧・ﾟ:*_ **

📝 [My Masterlist](https://sweet-ladyy.tumblr.com/tagged/masterlist)

☕️ [Buy me a ko-fi? (Donations for my writing!)](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fko-fi.com%2Fsweetladyy&t=ZTdjNjk0YzM2NmNjMzc4OTMxZGIxZWM3NGMxM2JkZTFlZjY5YTI3ZCx4NTVUNklCYQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A9lHAj1l-jXMRGYg9I1iewg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsweet-ladyy.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F184107621278%2Fmatters-of-the-heart-chapter-four&m=1)


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